The Long Way Home

So Thursday evening, I was pulling out of my office garage, and my loyal friend and former secretary Mirta called, to tell me about a major traffic tie up on US 1. Typically, I'd then switch to Bayshore Drive through the Grove, but I decided to head West instead.

I took the long way home.

Once you pass the I-95 overpass, you're in Little Havana. That's a misnomer now, as Little Havana isn't very Cuban anymore. Most of the residents are from Central or South America.

Some of the old houses, circa 1920s and 30s, are well preserved. I wondered who lived in them. Many of the structures, though, are ugly concrete 2 story apartment buildings, with "For Rent" signs and "No Parking" signs the only adornments.

It was a cool night, and I had my windows and sun roof opened, so I heard conversations as people walked home. I heard ZERO English. It's funny, and one of the things I love about Miami --you really can travel to a foreign country by just driving a few blocks away from your usual "American" neighborhoods.

As I continued West on SW 8th Street, also US 41, the neighborhood turned to hundreds of "no tell motels." They were all well lit and seemingly in good repair. I guess there is no shortage of demand for people seeking mini vacations from their spouses...

As if on cue, my XM classic rock station played Bob Seger's "Fire Down Below." I chuckled to myself. People are the same in Detroit as they are in Miami, although Seger's song here would translate to "Fuego Uterino."

I drove North on SW 27th Avenue to Flagler, and passed Miami High. They're building an enormous extension to the old building, it looks like. I was only inside once, when my 1L "Equity Playhouse" used the old theatre there for their show lampooning the professors. I remember the gorgeous old space. I hope they preserve it...

I continued West, and the traffic tie ups there took me through formerly Jewish neighborhoods which are now COMPLETELY Latin. Some old delis I recall from my first days in Miami 32 years ago are now serving only lechon...

I made my way to the Palmetto, and then south, towards our little pocket of gringo-hood.

The Herald reported last week that, according to the latest census, Broward is becoming exactly like Miami Dade, demographically. I saw it myself at Dr. Barry's boy Josh's holiday show --my rough estimate of his middle school, in Pembroke Pines, was that it was more than 50% Latin families.

I happen to think this is cool. My Levittown, LI upbringing was so limited. All my friends were Irish, Italian, or Jews. "White Ethnic NY" as the demographers call it. I didn't meet a black person until my freshman college year, and the only Spanish speaking kid I met was a Puerto Rican foster child named Ralph Ramirez. He had a big afro...

In South Florida, there's more variety. And as much as I love a good pastrami sandwich, sometimes the lechon is tastier...